


Hope

by lea_ysaye



Series: There's No Waking From The Horror [4]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rickyl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10954371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_ysaye/pseuds/lea_ysaye
Summary: Help comes.





	Hope

Jesus makes his way along the side of the corner house, keeping to the narrow corridor of shade. The midday sunshine is scorching.

He finds who he’s looking for on the steps that lead to the back door, which are also in shadow and only slightly cooler than an oven. Rick sits there, hunched over, hands dangling over hitched-up knees, head bowed. His fingers are dusty. He’s been smoothing out the nearest grave, putting in a few new plants. It’s one of the few graves that’s getting this special treatment. It’s Denise’s grave, and a symbol for all that’s happened to Daryl since her death.

“He’s here a lot,” Jesus says by way of an opening. He keeps his voice low, not wanting to startle Rick, or make him uneasy. He only wants to make sure Rick knows he’s noticed something is wrong, and that he cares.

Rick heard Jesus coming; he doesn’t look up, or flinch. Jesus isn’t surprised. You’re not with Daryl for so long without picking up a thing or two about tracking.

Jesus walks around Rick and leans against the wall of the house. This way Rick can see him easily, if he chooses to, and can leave two different ways – down along the way Jesus just came, or into the house - if he doesn’t want to talk. But Jesus will give it a good go. That’s why he came to find Rick.

“Daryl’s been through an awful lot.” Jesus looks back at Denise’s grave. He didn’t know her, or any of the people buried here, but being so near to Rick he can feel their painful absence regardless.

Rick gives a choked-off, humorless laugh. “You can say that again.”

At least he gets a reaction out of the other man. Rick didn’t freeze him out, so Jesus carries on. “You all have. _We_ have.”

This is unchartered territory. Rick hasn’t talked to anyone else. Jesus has asked around, and nobody is getting anywhere near him. Nobody even tries with Daryl, Rick has made sure of that. But Rick knows, and Jesus knows, that something needs to be done. Daryl can’t go on like this, and so neither can Rick.

The silence stretches. Rick seems to sink in on himself, he looks so small, so defeated. Jesus has never seen him like this. There’s only one way to go, and that is through with his plan, to the end.

“He needs help, Rick.” Jesus says it so quietly, Rick can pretend he didn’t hear it, if he wants.

For another moment, nothing happens. Then Rick lifts his head. Unsurprisingly there are tears in his eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

Before Abe and Glenn, this admission would’ve never come. Rick was cocky then, brave, and he was sure they’d win this. They’d all admired their leader’s bravery. Jesus had looked up to Rick from the moment they met. Now he admires him even more. Rick has changed. This has changed him, reshaped who he is, how he sees the world. _Nobody_ is invincible. His lover is on the brink of collapse. His group has been shattered to pieces. Now it’s time to start picking them up again.

“Let me help.” It sounds like a meaningless platitude, and Jesus amends. “Let me try, at least.”

Rick looks like he’ll dismiss the offer. Jesus holds his gaze and adds, very softly, “Tell me, Rick.”

 _Tell me what to do,_ he means. _Tell me about Daryl. Tell me what you know, or suspect._ But Rick can’t talk about it. He’s struck dumb because he loves the hunter. He can’t put into words what happened because Daryl’s pain is visceral, not intellectual, tangible. It’s hidden deep inside, where logic, and language, don’t reach.

But Rick manages something, and it breaks Jesus’s heart to hear. “He won’t talk. He…he can’t.” Rick pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opens them again he looks at Denise’s grave. “Maybe…maybe just be with him?”

Asking Rick’s permission to go near Daryl at all feels like betrayal. This is a crazy situation they’re in, and it’s shameful to speak about another man like this. But what else is there? “Alright,” Jesus agrees. “I can do that.”

He briefly contemplates offering Rick a listening ear, since he’s here anyway. But he decides against it. Rick’s way out of the darkness is to talk, yes. But while Daryl is suffering he won’t allow himself that release. One thing at a time.

After a minute, Rick gets up from the stoop. He’s not looking at Jesus, but contemplates the graves one last time. “Thank you,” he murmurs finally, then, very slowly as if he’s aching all over, climbs the steps and goes into the house.

*

The next day, Jesus goes out to find Daryl. The hunter is sitting at a picnic table not far from the gazebo, in the shade of a tree. It’s another scorching day. The air is very still, and Daryl is alone.

Before the group encountered Negan, Daryl had been the quiet one. When Jesus first started spending time with Rick’s group, Daryl would be the one sitting silently, listening. Now he’s not just quiet, but apart. He takes himself away as soon as any kind of commotion ripples through the group, good or bad. With a look of pain on his face he’ll slink away and hide, and nobody ever follows. Rick has made sure Daryl is left alone, by everyone including himself. The only time the lovers are together is at night in their room. Jesus has a feeling that Daryl only returns to Rick at night because he knows it would break Rick’s heart if he didn’t.

Daryl is tending to his crossbow and fletches. His shoulders are hunched protectively; he’s not inviting company. Jesus sits down in the furthest spot where Daryl can still see him, and puts the soft pouch he’s brought with him on the table. He unrolls it to expose his knives, which need some TLC.

They don’t speak, each working quietly on his weapons. Daryl seems to just be going through the motions; the crossbow and arrows look totally fine. When the sun sets, Jesus finishes off sharpening the last blade, then rolls them all back up again. He stands up and says, “Aaron has asked me to come to dinner. Eric left for the Kingdom this morning, to have his leg looked at by their doctors.” He pauses. This is the clincher. “I told Aaron I’d come, and that I’d ask you, too.”

For the first time, Daryl casts a fleeting look in his direction. His face is pale, and narrower than it used to be. He gives a small shrug. “Alright.”

Daryl isn’t stupid, he knows what they’re doing here. But he accepts Jesus reaching out, which is a good sign. Better, in fact, than Jesus had dared hope for. Of course, Daryl knows Aaron well, and trusts him. There’ll be no pressure on him tonight to do anything he can’t do.

Aaron greets them casually, and nothing is made a big deal of. He has made a casserole dish, and he and Jesus talk quietly about the war preparations over dinner. Daryl mostly listens, but he seems as at ease as he ever gets these days. Aaron and Jesus drink red wine, but Daryl sticks with water. He eats his rather small portion slowly and cautiously. Everyone knows about his stomach issues; there are no secrets in this community. They don’t linger after dinner, but Daryl gives Aaron a small smile as he leaves with Jesus.

“Night, Daryl,” Jesus says when they get back to the corner house. He himself is staying at the house across the street when he comes to Alexandria.

Daryl glances at him, one hand on the bannister by the front steps. “Thanks,” he says quietly. “See ya tomorrow.”

Jesus goes to sleep that night with a hopeful feeling.

*

The next morning, it’s Daryl’s turn on the watch tower by the gate. Jesus helps Rosita in the understaffed infirmary for a few hours, but goes over to Rick’s house after lunch. Everyone tends to fend for themselves for their midday meal, but there’s always food at the corner house in the evening for anyone who comes by. Jesus volunteered to prepare dinner today. He has a quick conversation with Carl, who gets Judith up from her nap and then leaves for the infirmary, to take Jesus’s place there. The house is deserted after that, and not by accident.

Daryl comes back in the early afternoon. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Jesus, who is sitting in the living room with Judith. It’s too hot outside for the little girl.

“Hey,” Daryl says, and goes into the kitchen for a glass of water. “Everyone else busy?”

Jesus gets up and brings Judith over into the kitchen. “Yeah. I said I’d make dinner. You free? I was hoping you’d watch Judith.”

There’s a fleeting expression of fear on Daryl’s face, but as he watches the little girl, who is giggling and squirming in Jesus’s arms, his eyes grow soft. “Sure,” he says.

Daryl takes Judith into the living room, and Jesus sets about making a meal that will feed eight to ten people. The afternoon wears on peacefully. When Judith’s giggle and Daryl’s low voice die away, Jesus looks up from the carrots he’s cutting. The hunter and the little girl have fallen asleep on the sofa. Jesus smiles to himself, and carries on with his tasks.

Around six o’clock, Rick is the first to return from his day outside the walls. Daryl and Judith are up again, playing on the floor. Rick goes over to join them. Daryl says something in a low voice that Jesus can’t hear, and a moment later the hunter is on his feet and on his way to the door.

“Daryl,” Jesus calls before he can disappear. He beckons, then ladles soup into a bowl he has already standing ready. He pushes it across the counter, together with a spoon. “Chicken soup, thought that might be okay for you.”

With an odd expression on his face, Daryl takes the bowl and the spoon. He dips his head in a wordless thanks, then hurries from the house.

Rick comes over into the kitchen with Judith in his arms. His face is carefully composed, but Jesus thinks he can see pain flit across it for a moment. It can’t be easy, that Daryl bolts every time people start to gather. “Guess it’s something, that he actually stuck around today,” Rick says, his voice deliberately hopeful.

“Yeah, it is, Rick,” Jesus says softly. “It really is.”

*

Jesus is surprised to find Daryl waiting for him outside his house the next morning. In bed last night he’d been trying to come up with a scenario for the day that would allow him to spend time with Daryl again. Nothing very good came to mind, but it looks like he could’ve saved himself the worry.

“Ya ever been squirrel hunting?” Daryl asks.

Jesus grins. “I’ve caught a few in my time, yeah. But I’m rubbish at it.”

Daryl snorts, then turns in the direction of the gate. “Come with? Rick said to check them snares, bring back some rabbits.”

The arrangement between Rick and Daryl is temporary and fragile. Daryl does his bit in the preparation for the war they all know is coming, but Rick makes sure he can take his pick, and choose the tasks he finds manageable.

“Rabbit for dinner sounds great,” Jesus says encouragingly. “Squirrel, not so much.”

Daryl gives another quiet laugh. “Snake’s much worse, ya know. Or dog.”

Jesus makes a face. “Yeah, no details necessary.”

They don’t stray far from the Safe Zone. Daryl is still visibly struggling with his healing injuries, and he’s weaker and slower than he used to be, due to the persistent issues with his digestive system. He’s limping ever so slightly, and they take more breaks than would be necessary if Daryl was feeling completely well. At lunchtime, he hands Jesus a water flask, bread, ham and an apple from his bag. Daryl himself merely nibbles a few crackers.

“Stomach still not right?” Jesus doesn’t worry about addressing this issue directly. Daryl is annoyed with his body’s slow healing, but he’s never been embarrassed about it. Now he shrugs.

“’s alright, mostly. Just don’t wanna risk nothing.” He looks around the clearing they’re resting in. “Specially out here.”

“No,” Jesus observes drily. “Squatting behind a tree with your pants around your ankles when the biters come to call isn’t my idea of fun.”

Daryl actually laughs. He makes proper eye contact with Jesus for the first time that day, and for a moment it looks like he’s about to say something more profound than he has since his stint at the Sanctuary. But then his eyes grow dark again with the memory. He wipes his hands on his pants legs and gets up. “C’mon. Snares are real close now.”

They talk more that afternoon than they have since Jesus started his little intervention. Daryl relaxes as he explains how to set the traps. Jesus listens attentively, and asks questions at the right moments. This feels more companionable and natural than anything else they’ve done so far.

On their way back, half a dozen squirrels and rabbits slung over their shoulders, Daryl looks exceptionally tired. But he also looks calmer and more like himself than Jesus even dared hope at the beginning of the day. Outside the gates, Daryl slows down. He’s not looking at Jesus now, and seems to be psyching himself up for something.

“Rick, he…,” Daryl finally begins, but falters. After a moment, he starts over. “Rick’s different. From me, I mean. He’s gotta talk, and I…can’t. Not about his…his stuff, neither.” He wipes at his eyes and stares into the distance. Jesus waits. “I can’t even ask him how he’s doing.”

Jesus weighs his words. “He’s really sad,” he says eventually, and sees Daryl’s shoulders stiffen. He quickly carries on. “He knows you don’t mean to worry him, but it’s not that easy, is it?”

Daryl shakes his head. “No, ‘s not.” He looks at Jesus, finally. “Tell…tell him this is helping?”

Jesus nods. “Of course. Daryl, I’ve been thinking of something else.” He watches Daryl for signs that this is too much. Daryl doesn’t move, just looks at the dusty road in front of him. Jesus carries on, “You know, Eric went to the Kingdom to have the doctors look at his foot. They have a pretty good infirmary there.”

Daryl nods slowly. “Yeah, I remember. They looked at my shoulder.”

“I think they could help with your stomach trouble, as well as the…the other thing.” It’s a risk. Jesus isn’t sure they can actually touch on it with words. But he feels more confident now that they can beat this. It’s not easy for Daryl, but the hunter really wants to get better. The anguish he’s causing Rick weighs heavier on Daryl than his own pain.

They walk on slowly, not speaking until they reach the corner house. There Daryl stops again. His glance at Jesus is fleeting, but his blue eyes shine with gratitude. “I think I can do this, y’know.” He glances at the house. “I gotta,” he says, almost to himself.

*

When Rick comes into their bedroom Daryl is already in bed, even though it’s only just gone nine. Carol told Rick that both Jesus and Daryl had eaten dinner with them, and that Daryl had seemed a lot calmer.

Rick’s day has been long and frustrating. He’s been out on reconnaissance with Morgan and Tobin, and on the way back their car gave up the ghost. They tried to fix it, but were unsuccessful, so finally, when the sun begun to set, they’d decided to walk the last five miles home. This has put Rick in an irritable mood, but the news about Daryl doing better has changed that utterly.

“Hey, buddy,” he says gently.

Daryl looks up from his book. He’s really gotten into the habit of reading recently. Rick guesses it’s partly to deflect conversation, but also something Daryl can do on his own when he’s not feeling strong enough to be out hunting and scouting to get away from it all.

“Hey,” he says and puts the book down. “Rick,” he continues, then stops. There’s something Daryl wants to say. Rick toes his shoes off, then sits on the bed by Daryl’s side. There’s no need to say anything, but he gives a nod of encouragement.

“Jesus, did he…did he mention the Kingdom to ya?” Daryl waits for Rick’s nod of confirmation, then says, “I think I’ll go?” It’s half a question, and Rick yearns to tell the hunter how much he likes the idea. When Jesus had told him about the plan, Rick had nearly hugged the younger man, he’d been so grateful. But he measures his voice. Putting any kind of pressure on Daryl can put the whole thing in jeopardy.

“Yeah, you should,” he says with a smile.

“I’ll not just be sitting around,” Daryl says quickly. “Ezekiel needs help preparing, I’ll be useful.”

It’s heartbreaking that the hunter thinks Rick could suspect him shirking responsibilities. Rick would love it if Daryl took it easy for a while and just concentrated on getting better. But that’s the wrong thing to say, too. “Course you will,” he agrees, then, “Hey, listen, I thought, maybe I’ll come too, for a few days. I’ve barely been inside the Kingdom. And those doctors, I wouldn’t mind seeing them myself.”

They both know what kind of doctors they’re talking about. It’s all Jesus’s doing, that Daryl has come this far and accepted the help that’s being offered. In fact, there’s a psychiatrist at Ezekiel’s infirmary, expecting them both.

What exactly the doctor will be able to do for Daryl, Rick doesn’t know. Talking therapy won’t really work for him. But Jesus managed to get them this far, so anything seems possible now. Rick struggled with sitting by and letting the younger man do all the work. It still hurts deep inside, that he’s been so powerless, but this is a pain Rick will live with happily.

Daryl feels for Rick’s hand on the bed by his side, and intertwines their fingers. Rick’s heartrate speeds up. Daryl hasn’t touched him willingly in days. “Yeah,” the hunter says, and his lips quirk into a small smile. “Yeah, that’d be real good.”

Rick takes a chance. He leans in slowly, and gently kisses Daryl on the mouth. They haven’t done this in so long, it almost feels like a first time. Daryl stiffens for a moment, but then sighs and relaxes, parting his lips for Rick’s probing tongue.

They don’t draw out the kiss. Rick pulls back after a few seconds. Daryl’s face is a little flushed, and he’s still smiling. Rick returns the smile.

“Let me grab a shower, then we’ll turn in,” he says. “Man, I’m beat.”

He showers quickly, then slips on fresh boxer shorts. When he returns to the bedroom Daryl is back in his book. When he sees Rick, he puts it on the bedside table and folds the blankets back. Daryl props himself up on his side as Rick slips under the covers. “Will be good to be somewhere else for a bit. And Shiva, she’s sweet. I wanna see her again.”

Rick grins at Daryl’s definition of sweet, but doesn’t challenge it. The fact that Daryl is planning for their time away, and anticipating things that make him happy, is definitely a good sign. Rick rolls onto his side, too.

“It’ll be nice for us to be together for a few days and not have a million other things to worry about,” he says.

Daryl nods, looking more content than Rick has seen him in forever. “Yeah,” he says, and finds Rick’s hand again. “Real nice.”

They fall asleep like this, only their fingers touching. Rick hasn’t felt so close to the hunter since before Negan destroyed Daryl’s soul.


End file.
